Broken Victories
by GBblahblahblah
Summary: Madge has always lived in a world of lies and deceit, toeing the line between death and life carefully as the youngest sister of the notorious Finnick Odair. But not even Finn can save Madge when she is Reaped for the 73rd Hunger Games, thrust further into the spotlight and made to play the Capitol's darkest games alongside a most unlikely ally, the brooding boy from district 12
1. Prologue

Broken Victories

Disclaimer - I do not own The Hunger Games universe or any of the characters in this story, although I have altered a few. That wonderful world and everything in it belongs to Suzanne Collins.

The only place she finds freedom is in the weightless world of blue that sinks below the prying eyes of the Capitol watch towers. Madge lusts to stay below the surface forever, immersed in the breathtaking beauty that sways with the constant pulls and pushes of the currents, but like the bubbles of her breath she must rise towards the light eventually. Finn says he feels this way too and she often wonders if he, like her, dreams of swimming away from the cruel world that starts with the sandy shoreline of District 4. The shoreline so far out of her sight at the moment that she feels much larger than her petite nine year old body, but the shore they must go home to when the sun sets over the horizon nonetheless.

Father's boat bobs up and down with the small waves of the ocean a few metres away from where Madge swims lazily in the sun. Him and Finn fish together in perfect unison but while her father catches fish by the boat load, Finn is lucky to catch one every hour.

"How many fish is that Finn? One still or have u caught another goldfish to feed the birds like you did yesterday?" Madge smiles wickedly as she teases him from where she floats on her back facing the roaring rays of the sun that constantly blister down on district 4.

"Least I can fish Kiddo, what are u doing out here again? Hmmmm getting sun burnt like you did yesterday?"

"I don't burn, I tan for your information." She splashed him with both hands, causing water to spirt all around in thousands of tiny droplets. The water distracts Finn where he sits, the droplets covering his eyes in salty water, and he drops his net accidentally over the edge of the boat to press his palms to them. Oh no. Madge halts.

"Damn you, Madge Odair, I'm gonna get you back for this!" He glares at her before swiftly diving from the boat to collect his sinking net. She chortles at his threats lightly, even though she knows from the past that Finn is more than capable of revenge. But those giggles immediately stop when Father's gaze turns from his trident and net to meet her own laughing eyes. Disappointment.

" You are too old for this childish behaviour now, you need to grow up Madeline." He mutters harshly yet despondently before starting to pack up the equipment, her full name sending a jolt of pain straight through her even though that's all he calls her now. He used to always call her Madge, his little pearl, and she desperately want to remind him that she's still his little girl, that's she's only nine. But there's no point, he wouldn't listen, he never listens to her anymore. It's not like Madge is not used to his disappointment, she is, it's just that he used to laugh at her and Finn's harmless torments. He used to even join in on occasion. He never laughs now, not since Ma died. He never calls her Madge either.

Once packed up, they sail in silence back towards the port. Madge watches Finn fiddle with a small tuft of rope in his lap that had come apart from one of the nets awhile ago while she braids small plaits into her distinctive district 4 waves of golden hair to waste time. Finnick, like herself, had been scorned for his 'immature' behaviour when he'd resurfaced back out the water after catching his net. Of course Finn had apologised profusely for his actions afterwards but father had merely ignored his pleas once again. Father never listened to Finn either.

It was in that moment, as she watched Finn hide his shame, that Madge realised she hated her father, or at least that she couldn't love the man he had turned into. Mira said that he'd been so kind before the sickness had torn their family apart, how that was why Mira still cared so much for father. Madge desperately wanted to be able to do the same thing but she couldn't look past who he'd become. Not when his words stabbed Finn so harshly that his eyes glassed over in embarrassment or when she felt her heart break a little more when she offered him any kind of way in.

Mira is waiting at the port for them when they arrive, and her father smiles so brightly at her that Madge has to look away, ashamed of her jealousy. Mira is the spitting image of their mother, with long black locks that cascade down to below her waist and deep blue eyes that mirror the ocean's reflection of the night sky once the sun has set for the evening. She is beautiful. She is gentle like mother was too, with smooth milky skin and a kind heartwarming smile that makes it hard not to love her or in Madge's case envy her. She is only twelve but even Madge can see the way the older boys stare at her when they walk through the markets to sell their hauls. She wonders if when she's grown a bit, the older boys will look at her that way, with appreciation in their eyes and on their lips, but by the looks boys her age give her she's not exactly hopeful.

Xxxxxxx

"You're gonna get a cold laying out here all night, Kiddo."

" I thought you weren't talking to me, Finn, trying to get back into father's good books" Madge huffs at his concern, her childish petulance rearing its ugly head. She can admit there is a chill in the air tonight and her soggy bum isn't the most comfortable to sit on, but she'd much rather freeze to death than go back inside tonight and her heart will not listen to anyone who tries to convince her otherwise.

"I'm never in his good books," Finn laughs before turning serious again,"can you please just stop being stubborn and come inside, Madge, father's worrying." She scoffs at that.

"I bet father's not even noticed I'm gone Finn so don't lie, I may be nine but I'm not stupid."

" Well I'm worried and so is Mira so can you please come inside for us Kiddo." She doesn't move, determined to make her point.

"Hey, I'll even sleep in your bed tonight if you want." He makes an enticing offer, especially when he knows how much she will hate sleeping alone because reaping day is tomorrow. She won't budge though. Stubbornly she shakes her head to signal that the answer is still no and her ears go back to listening to the rhythmic percussion of the waves pummelling against the sand. He sighs and sits beside her, resigning to waiting for her to move and together they watch the waves crash on the shore, side by side.

"It's Mira's first reaping tomorrow," Madge breaks the silence looking up at him for the first time since he came outside,"she's so scared Finn, she's been crying in her sleep."

"She won't get picked Madge, she's got one slip and even if she does someone will likely volunteer." Madge can tell he's not only trying to convince her but himself of what he's saying in the way he places his head into his bent knees and chest in a sign of despair.

"And if no one volunteers?"

Madge's answer lies in the stillness that settles between them. Without him even telling her she know that he will volunteer to go with her, because Finn is selfless where she is selfish and he would give up his life so Mira could live hers. Madge sleeps beside Finn and Mira that night, Mira having later joined them with tearful eyes, and together they lay in the wet sand, her head sprawled against his chest and Mira's feet entangled with her own as their arms wrap around each other protectively. She can faintly hear them both quietly cry in their sleep, terrified and worried, and Madge knows that tomorrow she must be strong enough for both her siblings, for her brave brother and beautiful sister.

(Strength is much harder to conjure when you're torn apart, Madge will soon learn.)

Xxxxxxx

She wakes up alone.

Mira must have gone inside, she thinks to herself, and she's sure Finn would have left very early this morning to go fishing with father so they can catch a haul for the post reaping celebratory feast that will commence tonight. Well, for everyone except the family who's child gets reaped. No, they will close their windows and mourn for their brother's or sister's, son's or daughter's fate. The odds won't have been in their favour. She prays it won't be them, but prayers have seldom helped her in the past.

Still, it's all she can do.

The sun is impossibly hot today she realises as she wipes the sleep from her eyes, it's rays are like hands, pounding heavy punches against her front as she lays there and with the salty grains of sand reflecting its beams of light Madge can barely see past her own arms without blinking uncontrollably. She hates it when it's like this, so hot that the sweat seems not only to stick to her but to the air around her, an atmosphere so humid that each inhale burns slightly against her throat. The sky, like the days before today, is blue, but unlike the bright azure colour that floods the sky uninterrupted normally, today's sky is more of a subdued version, a Reaping version, blinding and painful. The Sun seems almost lonely, no clouds for company and she thinks maybe this is some higher power's sense of humour playing tricks on her mind, easing her into nerve driven madness.

(What she doesn't realise is that once you know the Reaping's there, the fear never completely goes away)

Slowly she lifts herself off the sand, which is already hot from the heat its absorbed, and trudges up the beach towards their house. All she needs is a glass of water she concludes, her mind is running rampant due to dehydration from laying in the sun for much too long. It's the only logical explanation, that or nerves. She can't dwell on the latter option though. She needs to be strong. Like Finn and Mira. The door creaks as it opens up, old and rickety like the rest of their house that has seen many summer storms and winter winds blow through district 4, and she passes through easily before shutting it tightly behind her.

"Mira" she shouts across the house, her voice travelling easily through the few rooms, but their is no response to her calls.

"Mira, you home?" She pokes her head into their bedroom door, thinking that it must be empty but is instead greeted by Mira's curled up form huddled between both of their cushions that Ma had sewn for them when they'd been born.

"Mira..." She feels her voice die in her throat.

"I miss her."

"So do I." Madge walks carefully over to their bed.

"I miss father too, how he used to be." Madge purses her lips at that, uncomfortable talking kind words of her father. She can barely remember the man he'd been before Ma died, the one Mira so often spoke well of. Maybe she's just unable to look past all of the mistakes he's made since Ma died, maybe she is just too young to remember. But then again she remembers Ma before she'd gotten sick, remembers her kind heart and soft smile. She can still hear her lilting voice and feel the warm touch of her mother's hand in Madge's. Father, well she doesn't remember anything past his stench of liquor and cutting remarks. It is almost like she has blocked out anything nice he's ever said to her.

"He was happy back then. He'd come home smiling as he walked through the door. He'd pick Finn and I up and spin us round on his shoulders till we were either so dizzy we couldn't stand or we were laughing so much we'd nearly wee our pants. Then Ma would scold him jokingly for making us so hyper and he'd kiss her for ages to make up for it... They were so in love, everybody could see it. And then he'd go over to you, his little pearl, and he'd pick you up in his arms and he'd kiss your forehead like you were the most precious thing in the world." Mira stops for a second, scared of carrying on but deciding to continue eventually.

"I was so jealous of you, with your golden hair and your big green eyes and of the way father looked at you. He loved you more than anything, his baby girl." Madge shifts uncomfortably.

"And now you're his whole world. You're the only one who he smiles for, the only one he talks to. I'm jealous of you, how you look like ma, how perfect you are at everything, how father looks at you now. Like you're his saving grace." Madge murmurs quietly, embarrassment tinting her cheeks a blushing pink that only highlights her scattering of freckles. She's scared to say much else, she never speaks about her feelings with Mira, especially not about her envy of her. Opening up to anyone other than Finn feels like a foreign concept, weird and stilted and uncomfortable. Especially with her perfect older sister.

She's about to leave when she feels Mira's arm around her, tight and protective. It's different than Finn's, softer in a way, but she likes it. Her arm in turn holds Mira closer. Warmth spreads nicely between them as they just lay there. Maybe tomorrow, or even in a few minutes, they'll go back to their usual stilted conversations, Mira trying desperately to find common ground as Madge retreats into herself. And Madge thinks she'll be okay with that as long as Mira is still here tomorrow, smiling prettily and sleeping beside her. As long as there's hope, Madge can handle anything.

(At least her nine year old self believes she can)

Xxxxxx

They head to the markets soon after their rare moment of kindness, an awkwardness surrounding them as they walk side by side, neither knowing what to say to the other. The journey is mostly silent consequently, only the odd word or observation pointed out from one of them as they go. Their nerves rear as they pass the main square which is being prepared to be camera ready in a few short hours. Peacekeepers patrol like wolves around the outskirts, packs of them growling at people passing by, instilling fear into the air around them. They cackle when the youngest children whimper behind the older ones, jeer as the elderly avoid their gazes. Mira walks by with her head down too, not wanting to be noticed or called at but Madge can't help but glare at them. One in particular catches her gaze, and spits at her, and she thinks maybe when she's a bit older, a bit stronger, she'll spit back. She won't let them walk all over her.

"Come on, stop causing trouble." Mira drags her away from the main square and towards the back streets which secretly hold rows of small stalls in the shadows. A few older boys stare admirably as Mira walks past and although her sister barely registers them, Madge can't help but notice. Boys always look at Mira in such funny ways, she thinks as Mira drags her further past them. They never laugh at her like the boys do to Madge in her class, but then again none of them really talk to Mira at all unless it is to say something crude or complimenting. Maybe that's how father looked at Ma, the same way those boys did. Secretly she hopes someone will look at her that way.

(Nine year old Madge doesn't realise the difference between lust and love. She soon will)

The stalls are less busy than usual, the normally heaving stands are barer than ever and there is fewer than normal. Many daren't risk being caught by Capitol peacekeepers on a day like today after all.

A few of the many fish stands are open however, including Old Isla's, Mira's normal trader. Isla had always traded with Ma when she was a younger girl, like she did with her daughters now, and when Ma passed, Isla had helped her, Mira and Finn get back on their feet, providing them with some of her better scraps and leftovers for free. It was a kindness that no amount of money could repay.

"You two not getting ready for that killing show?" Isla speaks with a strong district 4 twang, indistinguishable to those without an ear for it. With wild grey curls and a tendency to speak out of line, she's one of Madge's favourite people, bold and bright and full of life like so few others are. The young blonde giggles at the older woman's bluntness and although Mira looks around cautiously, both Madge and Isla can tell she found the jab funny. Her smile is small but it's still visible.

"Not quite yet, we've got some fish to sell to you first." Mira heaves the bag of catches onto the stall and opens it up to reveal their haul.

"Ahh yes, fish, my most loyal companion." Isla rolls her eyes as she lifts each one up individually and inspects the catch, checking the quality and a load of other things Madge doesn't yet understand.

"They're good, not your best but I'll let you off. It is Reaping day after all."

"So, 20 coins?" Madge buts in. Mira quickly elbows her in the side for her "impatience" but Isla just smiles.

"Ow." She rubs her side and pouts.

Isla gestures for her to come closer so she can tell her something, and Madge follows along seemingly forgetting the pain she'd just been in. She reaches up on her top toes, chin falling against her hands as she leans up against the stall top to listen.

"Ill make you a deal, missy, I'll give you 20 coins if you tell that handsome brother of yours that my granddaughter's available." She whispers in Madge's ear but Mira hears it anyway and shakes her head at Isla's request, a laughing sigh escaping her mouth.

"No".

"Yes." Madge and Mira answer at the same time, both turning their heads to face the other in disbelief. Isla just shakes her head again as they begin to bicker over the deal, wondering how quickly time has passed since Meri Undersee (soon to be Odair) had stood here bartering deals with her. How life had passed them by since then, years wasted on the same monogamous servitude, decades spent welcoming death and sickness. She hopes maybe these two will live to see better days than she has, but then again she has hoped the same thing for her own children and grandchildren for decades and there has yet to be any sign of change. Rebellion is deadly after all.

They stop their childish argument when the sound of coins hitting the counter resounds over their hushed shouts and their haul slides back off the shelf away from them. Without hesitance, Madge's small hand reaches out to grab the coin bag from the counter before her sister can. Mira tuts even louder at that but Madge pays her no attention as she counts the coins, smiling slightly when she notices twenty one coins instead of the twenty they'd asked for.

"Happy Hunger Games girls." Isla winks but there is remorse behind her voice.

"Happy Hunger Games Isla." Mira nods appreciatively with a sad sort of smile, reflective of Isla's, before grabbing her younger sister by the hand and leading her towards the other stands. Madge merely smiles as they leave, her neck craning to watch Isla disappear behind the people intercepting their previous path.

"Look where you're going Madge, you're tripping over your own shoes." Mira yanks her arm harder to get her attention and Madge sends her a glare at the small amount of pain that suddenly prickles her skin there.

"I don't need you to hold my hand, Mira." She shrugs her sister's grip from her own and although she won't admit it she wishes she hadn't. In fact she wishes she could just be nice, less harsh and cold, like how they'd been earlier. It's instinctive, shutting herself away. Maybe normalcy is all she can offer Mira. She's never been particularly strong or good at pretending.

(Yet strength is not always measured in physicality but in resilience. In people's ability to survive. And pretending is much easier when faced with death.)

They make their usual rounds; bread, butter, herbs and vegetables, a few small pieces of meat that they barter for even though they know they can just about afford them at full price. And anyway, getting good prices is way for the two of them. All it takes is a nice wink from Mira, a few blinks of Madge's doe eyes and a sweet smile from both girls and even the most solemn men crack.

They're walking back through the markets towards home, a few spare coins jangling in Mira's pocket, when Madge stops to look at the stall with the jewels and pretty ribbons. They're all people's second hand things, items they've either had to porn off for some money or food, or things they've just disregarded (although that is rare). Still, each piece shines slightly and reminds her of Ma's jewellery. She recalls the dainty ring they'd had to sell for food when father hadn't come home for weeks, the sparkly diamond it had held, small yet precious. She wanders for a quick moment who owns it now, and she hopes they're good, whoever they are.

"Do you want a ribbon? To wear this afternoon." Mira stands behind her, eyes glassed over as she too looks at the tiny but bright sapphires and emeralds glistening is the sunlight.

"Ma wore ribbons in her hair." Madge whispers. A different one each day of the week. She remembers the faint yellow on Monday, the old green one belonging to Wednesday and the worn blue one of Friday. Sunday's ribbon was always white. Pure and white, never to be aged like the rest of the previously brightly coloured ribbons. That one had been her favourite. Madge picks up one like it, slightly thinner but with the same cut and similar length and then hesitantly picks up a second aswell. One for herself and one for Mira. Her older sister. Mira says thank you lightly but it's her eyes that speak the most words. Madge thinks she'll remember that look forever.

Xxxxxx

They get dressed in silence. Finn, Mira and Madge. Father has gone for a drink down at the black markets that those around these parts call the Pearl and it painfully reminds her again of his old nickname for her, how he's replaced her with something better almost. He's done this before every Reaping since Ma's passed, gotten drunk, says it keeps the nerves away. Madge thinks it's just to dull the pain more than anything else. Coward.

Mira plaits her hair into a braid, tightly looping the ribbon round the end so it trails a bit down her back. Mira says it makes the highlights in her hair shine, Madge thinks it cannot look better than it does in Mira's but she nods and thanks her sister anyway.

Her reflection is blurred in the old mirror in ma and dad's room but she can see that Mira's old dress is baggy against her small, gangly frame. The outcome is understandable. She's much less nourished than Mira was at nine, shorter too although not by much. It's pretty though, this pastel blue colour, a bit lighter than the denim shorts that she likes to wear on father's boat. A few of the small pearls on the collar have fallen off but it's the fanciest thing she owns and she loves it. Mira says Ma would have loved it on her even more than she had on Mira, and although Madge doubts her sister's words, the compliment feels nice. She can't smile though, guilt gnawing at her happiness, isn't she meant to be the one comforting Mira?

"You look gorgeous squirt." She watches Finn's hand go to mess up her hair in the mirror and her body quickly dodges to the left.

"Mira did this perfectly I don't want you messing it up Finnie." Madge swats his hand away.

"Why's your hair all stuck down, I don't like it like that." She point her finger to his hair and he laughs at her blunt comment.

"It's called gel squirt and it's what real men use." He strikes a pose, flexing his 'muscles' and throwing Madge his best smoulder. Some girls in her class say her brother is the most handsome boy ever, and although Madge knows he's nice and all she can't quite tell what they find so attractive about him.

"That must be why it looks funny, you're just a boy." She sticks her tongue out at him, giggling at her own antics before rushing back to her own room.

" I'm gonna get you for th.." his voice trails off as he stops behind her at the bathroom door.

Mira's kneeled over the toilet bucket, hands clenched white to the rim and her face has the same deathlike pallor their mother's used to have. An unhealthy sweat glistens across her forehead while tears leak from her cheeks down her chin and into the awaiting water. Finn quickly moves past Madge enveloping Mira into one of his strong bone crushing hugs. Madge doesn't know what to do and she feels useless standing still in the doorframe, her hands ringing creases into the material of her dress. A knock at the door echoes against the shallow walls of the house, bringing her out of her daydream of self pity, and it freezes them all where they are.

"Get to the square, Capitol orders, the public annual Reaping will commence in half an hour. Any stragglers will be shot on site."

Madge rushes over to look, peaking her head around the makeshift cover to watch them through their front "window" which is really just a large crack in the wall they've have never been able to afford to fix up. Peacekeepers patrol the streets outside, banging on doors, shouting orders, kicking and laughing at the weak as they stagger towards the square. She finds it sick and has to stop herself from snarling at them like a wounded dog. How dare they?

"I don't want to go Finnick! Please don't make me go!" Her head snaps back to her siblings in the bathroom and all she can think is how she's never heard Mira sob like this when she's not sleeping, not even after mum's death. Mira has always put up such a brave front, comforting Madge and Finn and father and stepping up to Ma's role with as much strength as she could conjure. She'd always saves her tears for her pillow, only allowing her weakness to show in the dark, far way from father's judging eyes and Madge thinks maybe that's why he adores her so. She was not weak in front of him like Madge had been after Ma had passed, like Finn had been.

"Me neither Mirrie but we have to." He hushes her to calm down, whispering in her ears quietly enough for Madge to not hear. Mira stops after that, wiping her tears away forcefully like they are painful reminders of her fear. A few long minutes later, the house is silent from Mira's snuffling, they're ready to go. Finnick stands brave as they leave the house, Mira looks gorgeous, only slightly red in the eyes as she fakes another smile and Madge, well she just keeps her chin held high. Because if you don't hold your head high, you might just drown in a god forsaken place like district 4.

Xxxxxx

Father and her stand side by side in a crowded sandy bystreet off to the left of the square, both of their eyes glued to the screen above which showcases the events happening on stage better than either of them can see from their vantage point. Their hands aren't touching, no, her father is not that affectionate, but she's glad he is beside her. His presence is almost comforting as they stand frozen in their spots, nervously waiting for the clock to strike two. For the Reaping to start.

Madge's hands occupy themselves with the necklace wrapped around her neck, the pad of her thumb stroking down the crevices indented into the scallop shell that hangs from some old rope of Finn's that she'd stolen last year. Mira had come up with the idea of the necklaces when they had had to sell all of ma's jewellery a while back, when things were really bad. Both of them had spent hours on the beach together, searching for two identical, perfectly shaped shells that Mira would then make into necklaces for each of them. Father had taken to drinking heavily around that time and Finnick had spent most of his free hours at his friends house's rather than at theirs, so she guesses it had been the only thing to keep Mira from breaking down in those first few weeks, Madge's silent company and those necklaces. Madge never really mourned their mother like the rest of her family did. She cried of course, was devastated at losing a loved one and maybe she showed much more emotion than Mira. But Mira was the one who was left with the scarring. She'd been sick for years when she died, her poor frail mother, and Madge was still young, she'd never truly known the vibrant woman others in town described to her when they spoke of her mother during trades. All she could remember was her voice and her touch and her smile. Mira was more like a mother to Madge really, and Finnick, after his initial grieving, had quickly stepped up to the role of the dad in their unconventional family, after it had become obvious their father's alcohol addiction wasn't just a phase.

Father's recovery had been very slow. He'd fallen deep into depression after Ma's death, had become an alcoholic, and mainly left them to starve while he spent his little earnings on cheap rum from the Pearl. He barely returned home, his days mostly consisting of working and drinking himself unconscious. Mira had been the only one to help him, had begged him to come home to them, and after months of the three of them barely scraping by, he returned, albeit with a foul temper and a constant drunk sway in his stride. Mira doted on him as if he was a knight in shining armour from then on, constantly scared of him breaking down, and even Finnick forgave his sins with no arguments, instead offering to help with the boats as he had by then turned 13. But Madge didn't pardon him when he walked through the door after all those months, in fact she never really forgave him. She still hasn't now, just over a year later.

Madge flinches involuntary when a loud screech rings through the speakers surrounding the square, her hands dropping the necklace hurriedly to instead place themselves over her ears. The blue lady stands upon the stage in front of the microphone, the same horrible looking one as last year, tapping the device to draw everyone's attention to her. Madge waits a moment for the crackling to stop before lowering her shaking hands to her sides.

"Welcome, welcome, citizens of district 4 to the Reaping for the 65th annual Hunger Games! I'm sure you're all just as excited as I am to see who will be representing you all this year but before the big moment, a quick video all the way from the Capitol, how wonderful?" She claps her hands in excitement, a wide grin threatening to split her face in half as she turns to watch the screen to the right waof the stage. The video lights up on all the screens around the side streets aswell, and Madge watches and listen intently to the speaker as videos of chaos and destruction play out before her eyes. She has seen it before, the video, they play it every year, but it still manages to shock her every time, the story of Panem. From destruction to revolutions, disasters to the Treaty of Treasons, the changes merge together to create the facade of a perfect Panem. But Panem is not perfect, even she knows that, how can it be when Finn and Mira and thousands of other kids stand in fear for their lives at this very moment?

It doesn't take long for the video to end, and the blue lady, Candice or Candy or something like that to take centre stage once again. Her voice is high and squeaky, with an annoying twang from the Capitol that differentiates so much from that of district 4's accent, that some of her words are unrecognisable to Madge. She talks of the five previous Victor's from district 4 and some other stuff that many ignore, or merely don't understand. Madge makes out the final sentence though, the sentence that, even at the age of nine, already sends shocks of dread trembling down her spine.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour!"

Madge unintentionally reaches out for father's hand, she's slightly surprised to find his does the same, and for the first time since this damn thing started Madge Odair takes her eyes off the screen to meet her father's stare. His hands are calloused and rough from years of hard labour and they feel odd in her much smaller, smoother palms. She hasn't held his hand in years, it feels odd. Together they wait for the name to be picked, his hand gentler squeezing hers in reassurance and Madge prays that they'll be fine, that the odds will be in the Odair's favour for another year.

"And our female tribute for district four is... Mira Odair!"

There is a pause in the district. The video on the screen swerves in different directions, as the cameras try to locate Mira's face in the mass of twelve year old girls. It doesn't take long, the rest of the crowd step away from her, as if she is somehow diseased all the sudden, as if her bad odds are somehow contagious. Her face is pale like it had been before the Reaping and a look of shock and terror rips through her beautiful features. She does not sob or scream though instead she just slowly takes her place upon the stage in pure shock. She might have even looked confident if the silent tears escaping her eyes weren't so clear in the sunlight and her steps weren't so scared and shaky. Someone will volunteer, someone has to volunteer, breathe, Madge tells herself, breathe. But breath won't come and she's stuck between an inhale and exhale, choking down a scream that also won't come because all the sudden her and father are paralysed. Mira... her Mira, her sister, her friend, her healer and mother and saviour has been chosen for the 65th Hunger Games. And it is only when no volunteers come at Candice's call that she lets herself collapse in sobs in the middle of the street, her small body shuddering into itself to block out the stares surrounding them, to block out the sound of her father's feet pushing past her through the crowd, leaving her alone. Madge knows what is coming next. No one else does but she does and it hits like a punch in the gut, because she know Finn is all but gone too.

"No ... no... Finn... please...Mir... no... stop... ahhh..."

"And our male tribute for district four is ... Conor Elkhorn." Madge's cries are drowned out by the speakers, and she half sobs, half watches helplessly as Finnick springs to life, charging down the aisle screaming "I volunteer, I volunteer as tribute!" He looks much older than 14, much older than 15 year old Conor Elkhorn who sighs a breath of shaky relief. Finn's height matches that of an average sixteen year olds, and by the fearless look in his eye he almost looks like the perfect career, strong and brave as he strides. But as he reaches the stage he does not stand tall or snarl or cheer like a career would, instead he runs to hold Mira in his arms, his much larger body blocking the camera from seeing Mira's reaction. But Madge feels no comforting arms, her father has left and no one around her dare move anywhere near her in fear of trouble. All she can feel is fear and a familiar aching in her chest. The aching that she felt when she saw Finn beaten and bruised by father after he'd pawned away Ma's wedding ring, when she'd first heard Mira cry herself to sleep at night. Powerless. Utterly powerless. Only then does the 65th Reaping end. Another family ripped apart.

And it's like a switch goes off as the speakers go silent. Suddenly adrenaline seems to kicks in and her feet are moving against the now diffusing mass of relieved faces, her heart pounding a thousand miles a minute. She's still crying slightly but she's small and agile so it's easy to slip through the tangle of limbs around her mostly unnoticed. And the ones who do recognise Madge or her tears make way, parting to let her through as she hurries towards the justice building Finn and Mira were just led into. She plans what she will say to both of them as she runs, who she will go to first, what she can fit into those final few minutes with them. She also wonders for a moment if father will be there waiting to say goodbye to his children, like any other parent would, but quickly abandons the idea. He is not that brave. Her father, however good he is at heart, is a coward who has run from his problems before and will gladly run from them again. But Madge will not run. She promised herself she would be strong for them and she does not intend to break that promise, not when it might be the last one she ever gives to them.

The queue for Finn is longer than she'd expected but when Madge sees the congregation of school girls and mates of his she is not surprised. Finn has always been popular, many girls have openly adored him and his carefree nature gets him lots of friends. She knows they would move for her, let her past but feels that she should see Finn last, knows he must be her final goodbye. Mira too, has quite a queue of friends waiting for her, but as Madge hurries towards them they quickly make way for her in the line so she can enter the room first. Madge can just about hear her sister's sobs through the door, like a wailing child, and it's obvious the adrenaline and shock that had kept her sister frozen on stage has vanished behind the closed door.

Two peacekeepers grab Madge from underneath her arms roughly, almost heaving her so high that she is off the ground, and they briskly lead her from her place in line through the doorway into her sister's waiting room. Madge squirms in their hold and spits at them as they deposit her with a firm shove forward onto the awaiting floorboards below. It is hard on impact and she can't suppress the groan that heaves itself from her throat as her body hits the wooden floor with a thud, a thud that even the slamming of the door behind the peacekeepers can't quite silence. Madge doesn't mind though, not really, she's not focused on the throbbing of her left hipbone right now, not when the tears of Mira shatter through the air in front of her. Madge has never seen Mira sat like this, so deflated. Her loose shoulders shaking, her hands hanging low, making no attempt to conceal or even wipe away her own tears. Aside from her reddened face she is so grey looking and her hair is almost as hectic as waves amidst a storm. The plaits she wore so neatly before the Reaping are now unrecognisable as her fingers pull stray hairs in all directions. Madge has seen others cry like this, very rarely and in every case it is a transition from a person with hope to one without it. She'd seen it in father's eyes when the doctor had broke the news, and in the eyes of fishermen's wife's when a storm had swept their husbands away forever.

"Don't give up Mira, promise me you'll try to win, promise me you'll try to come home."

Mira's cries only halt for a moment as Madge speaks, a lapse in time to catch her breath before her howling sobs continue once more. The misery racks her body in sharp heaves and all Madge can do is hug her sister close and just rock her in her arms much like Mira has done to her countless times before. It continues like this for maybe a minute or so, waves of pain washing over her with small intervening lulls, before she finally catches her breath enough to respond.

"I'm twelve, Madge, what hope... do I have in the Games? I'm pretty... pretty...much... dead already." Her words hit Madge like one of the Capitol trains, full force impact right where it hurts. Her logic is painful and bare and honest, an admittance of defeat before attempt, and Madge really wants to be angry at her, for her surrender to her almost inevitable fate, for the fact that she has let them win, has let them take her strength, but she can't. They are both too broken. Madge feels cold and destroyed, because she knows she'd been so naive to forget about the other tributes before, the eighteen year old careers three times her size. Mira has always been the logical one in the family, a think before doing kind of girl, the opposite of Madge and Finn, and she hates that she is right this time. But still, Madge has a small slither of hope. It may not have been done before, but maybe, just maybe it is not impossible. Nothing is truly impossible.

"I love you." Is all she can manage to say without crying. Because Madeline Odair may be hopeful but even at nine she will not pretend the odds are in her sister's favour, and because she is also adamant not to agree with her sister. Mira had always said that she admired Madge's stubbornness.

"And I love you. Just, promise me you won't watch, if, if things get ... bad, okay Madge. And look after dad and yourself, promise me you will, he'll need you and I know you don't want to acknowledge it but you'll need him." She waits a moment. Catching her breath before quietly, almost too quietly, whispering her last wish in her ear.

"And when I die, promise me you won't forget me. Please.."

The door is thrust open with a raucous bang against the wall, effectively silencing Mira mid sentence, and they both turn to see the two peacekeepers from before entering the room. Their hands seize hold of Madge once again, and she's mercilessly pulled from Mira's embrace with a sudden jolt backwards. Her body flails desperately to push against them but she weighs little and they easily carry her back despite her efforts to keep her body wrapped tightly in Mira's one last time. Mira follows after them towards the door, her cries loud and screams louder, but they merely slam the door in her face, separating them for what might be the final time. And Madge doesn't know how, but after a moment of sitting lamely on the floor she manages to stand up and walk away, walk to Finn's now much smaller queue and away from Mira's desperate pleas. They're all waiting for her to break down, the Peacekeepers and the others in line. Waiting for her to run away or sob uncontrollably or collapse right there in front of them all. She can feel all of them anticipating it and despite wanting so badly to do all of those things she doesn't. She won't give them the satisfaction.

Finn's line has died down considerably when she crosses over to his door which is closed tightly to show that someone is already in there with him. By the looks of it she thinks it could be Coburn Douglas, their next door neighbour, a floppy haired boy with a kind smile that Madge had always appreciated. His other friends are lurking nervously around the corner, hidden away from the Peacekeepers' watchful gazes, as if they are scared that they could be taken too if seen wandering in a god forsaken place like this, cursed by death and tragedy. Madge doesn't blame them, the air around her is thick with dust and devastation, like all the goodness has somehow been pulled out and when Coburn quietly pushes the door open to leave, she rushes past him so quickly that he nearly trips over his own feet.

Finn isn't crying like Mira when she enters, instead he is staring solemly out of the small window, his fingers dancing across it's wooden edge sending swirling specs of grey into the light slithers around him. He could almost pass off as calm if it weren't for the devestated, broken look in his eyes, the one that focuses on her when she turns the handle to shut the door behind her.

"I was wondering when you'd show up Ki..." He begins to speak, his voice croaky and watery, but he is interrupted by her arms throwing themselves around him tightly. She can't hold back her tears this time, they're too heavy to keep in. Finn doesn't seem to mind her sobs though, only tightening his grip around her middle, holding her as close as physically possible. It is hard to imagine Finn not holding her like this again, not smiling at her or joking with her to cheer her up. But like Mira, the odds aren't in her brother's favour either, for he too is younger than even the youngest Victor.

"Why did you volunteer Finn?" She manages to blubber into his ear as he places her back on the ground but keeps her cradles safely inside his arms. She knows why, of course, but she wants to hear him tell her.

"Because I had to. I couldn't let her go in there alone, I need to bring her home to you after all." He whispers and even though she loves his selflessness she can't help but feel betrayed.

"But you're leaving me on my own." She emphasises the last bit, not that her pleas and anger will change much. Maybe she just needs to say it, to someone who won't judge her.

"Madge, please don't."

"And if you both die, I'll have no one left. I'll be all alone..." Her hands best against his chest, not too hard but with all the force of her unspoken emotions. Each one heavier than the last as it lands squarely on him.

And even if one of you does come home, the other one can't. One of you has to die." She stops hitting Finn and falls ungracefully to her knees, the weight pulling her down further and further into a ball of darkness. Loneliness. Finn's arms are still there but she barely registers them, only feeling pain and the tears that not only drip down her face but the ones that drip slowly onto her back. Finn's tears.

"I'm sorry" they both whisper into the air, over and over, again and again. Madge doesn't know why those two words stand out so much from the rest of their mumbles, from the "I love you"'s and the "I don't want you to go"'s, but those two words stick in her head despite her wishing they didn't. I'm sorry. Maybe it's because she wants an apology from the people who have done this to them not from her poor brave brother, wants to make the Capitol and President Snow feel the pain they are feeling. Or maybe she wants an apology from her father, the man too cowardly to say goodbye to his own children. Maybe she's apologising for how this all turned out, for the times she's hated Mira or the times she's blamed Finn.

Or maybe, in her own selfish way, she just likes the way he says "Kiddo" after each one. She wants to remember the sound of her nickname rolling off of his tongue in case it's the last time she hears it, in fact, she wants to remember every detail about Finn. The way his eyes have always washed away her concerns, calming and soothing like the ocean, and his hair, soft and golden even with all the funny gel he's put in to it today. His playfulness, ability to make her laugh, to make her feel like maybe the world isn't so bad after all. Although no amount of that feeling can stop then taking him from her.

But it's his smile that she wants to remember the most if he is to never come back to her. His smile that lights up a room, bright like the sun and her beacon in the darkness, guiding her back home.

They stay entangled for the rest of their time together, arms and feet wrapped around each other, tears mixing on the floor and hands held. He kisses her on the forehead when their time's up, almost like he can hear the peacekeepers coming to signal the end. His lips are gentle on her skin, soft like a summer breeze but she adds it to the list of things she'll remember anyway, his gentle side.

"I love you, Kiddo."

"I love you too, Finnie. Please try to win, please try to come home." Her eyes are broken glass as she steps away from him and turns her back from her brother for what may be the last time.

For Madeline Odair has known death, its' looming presence and firm grip always wrapped tightly around her.

Yet still, the dull ache from her mother's death feels like a summer breeze to the throbbing pain she feels everywhere now.

Madge is nine when the Capitol tears her heart apart, broken and shattered.

(It's a pain she'll soon learn to live with.)

(But it is also a pain she'll soon learn to inflict.)

(She hopes the Capitol enjoy their Games while they last, for they have stirred a storm in district 4 that will one day drown them whole.)

Xxxxxx

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter/ prologue of my new story. I've been really inspired to write more Gadge lately so here is the beginning of what will hopefully be a story you all love. I hope to be updating AFC soon because I'm 3/4 if the way through writing the next chapter. Fingers crossed it'll be done soon.

Love you guys

GB xox


	2. Chapter 1: Deep calls out to deep

AN: heyyyyyy guys, I'm back with an extra long chapter to make up for the extra long time I've spent not updating, sorry, I'm awful, I know... Anywayysss, I know this chapter is a bit of a filler but I hope it will give you some more details into Madge's mindset and how she's grown since the prologue and hopefully she'll either be meeting or at least seeing Gale for the first time next chapter.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Hunger Games, if I did Gale Hawthorne and I would have ended up happily ever after

Xxxxxx

**Broken Victories - Chapter 1**

_9 years later..._

Waking up is no longer the pleasure it once was. There is a fleeting moment that is good, a small few seconds where Madge is whole again, when she can almost feel Mira in the empty space beside her, her sister's arms wrapped around her protectively, holding her close. But then Mira is gone. Nothing but a figment of Madge's imagination once more. And the happiness she had felt quickly disappears. Soon she is drowning once again in the fears that haunt her, day and night. In the memories of 'what if's' and 'could be's'.

5 am the clock reads on her bedside table, and she sighs, her head falling back to rest against the messy arrangement of pillows behind her. Madeline Odair wakes like this most nights, or mornings depending on how you look at it, sometimes earlier sometimes later, but always before sunrise. The lack of sleep doesn't bother her though, not anymore, nor does the exhaustion that courses through her veins at every waking moment. Because she would much rather be tired and awake than asleep. Sleep is when the nightmares crawl back in. In sleep she can never escape. At least in the day, when she's awake, there are things to keep her from breaking like Annie Cresta next door. Things to keep Madge sane.

Her feet find their way out of the warmth of the covers and onto the cool floor of her bedroom, while her shaking hands draw back the duvet, palms damp with sweat. The darkness immersing her surroundings is merely a trivial annoyance now, she knows this room like the back of her hand, and she lifts her body from the cushioned mattress with ease before padding her way across the wooden slats towards the ceiling high double doors on the other side of the room. The balcony is high enough to see the distant lights and buzzing atmosphere of the houses and streets of district 4, which is why Madge likes it, but today there is no movement. Just emptiness. The world outside is silent as if it ended in the night. The sun is still resolutely below the horizon and she can only faintly make out the pathway intercepting through the Victor's village below. In the far distance, past town, Madge can just about see where the darker blues of the ocean meet the lighter greys of the coastline, the waves glimmering with the little light emitting from the Capitol watch towers far out at sea. No boats are out there today, no, everyone must be in the district for the Reaping. There is a small bay near Victors village where Finn keeps father's old boat, maybe a mile or so walk away from the house, but it is not visible from the balcony's viewpoint here. The thick mangroves to the right of the small path down to the private beach ensure it is covered and kept well hidden.

She misses living on the beach, waking up to the calming lap of waves on the shore every morning. Misses the comforting smell of salty air and fish being the first thing to hit her nose as she awakened into reality and the last thing she recognised as her mind slowly drifted off to sleep. She even misses the squawking seagulls that liked to reek havoc on their veranda and the permanent feeling of a light layer of sand covering every crevice of her little body. Now she is always clean. Madeline Odair has an image to uphold after all, a perfect look to present. Gone are the wild waves of golden hair that clung to the grains of sand from the shoreline, where her and Mira had liked to lay as they would watch the technicolour sunset slowly fade over the town into an infinite blanket of black. And in her old waves place sit long, smooth, straightened pieces of perfectly highlighted hair, each strand neatly positioned to glide effortlessly from side to side whenever she takes a step. Her brown litter of natural freckles are normally invisible under the thick layer of makeup painted upon her like a doll and even when she scrubs herself raw, the little dots across her cheeks and nose never seem to shine like they used to. Even the colour of her skin is more fake than real now, countless tanning sessions insuring it is the perfect mixture of bronzes, browns and golds.

Sometimes she feels like she's forgotten the word 'real' all together, the meaning warped and distorted so many times that there's no true definition. She has seen so many fake things, fake people, claiming to be real, or to be valid, and real people pretending, faking who they really are. Seen so many facades being built upon already wobbling foundations of self insecurities. Madge herself has been twisted and contorted to look and act a certain way, conform to her place in society as the famous "Finnick Odair's" little sister. But really she's just a blackmailing tool, her life a string to be toyed with, to be swung in front of Finn to ensure eternal obedience. Father payed the price for Finn's defiance the first time and Madge is here to make sure it doesn't happen again.

None of the other Victor's are awake, or if they are they are not showing it. The windows are all dark, covered by drawn curtains and she hopes her noise hasn't woken old Mags in the house across from theirs or poor Annie to their right. Victors never sleep well, aware of every sound, every small change around them. Finnick is the same. Maybe one day she will be too. The house to her left is the only empty one in the village, the others occupied by Victors and their families, and although the Capitol keeps it well maintained it feels cold and empty. And she wonders for a moment, if what Finn says turns out to be true and this is the year she is Reaped, will that be her house if she somehow survives? She hopes that if that does happen she wouldn't have to move at all, that she would be allowed the small comfort of staying with Finn but knows her hope is false. Victors do not get comforts, however small they may be.

Her toes tread lightly as she tiptoes effortlessly down the stairs, careful to avoid the slightly creaky ones in the dark as to not wake Finn up. The house is bathed in twilight, a glossy shine of moonlight trailing a path through the main corridor from the front window peaking from the lounge. She remembers the crack in the wall that she used to watch from, how she'd call it their front window in the old house, and she almost smiles, her naivety nearly comical now. How her imagination has dulled over time, she reminisces, how the girl she was has slipped away inside of her.

The front door is locked, but the key is easy enough to find behind the old picture frame of mother and father from so long ago, where it always is. It takes some time but after a while of her hand rattling the key in the lock, twisting it around and around, she hears a resound click. Her hands push it open slightly, just enough for her to slip through and she leaves the key in the lock when she closes the door, that way Finnick will know where she's gone when he wakes. The path she walks along is barely visible in the darkness and the little light from the moon may be the only thing that keeps her from tripping on the uneven surface of oddly shaped rocks and pebbles. It only gets more unsteady when it dips into the mangroves outside of the village, their vines interlacing with the scattered stones sneakily and she almost falls a few times but manages to catch herself, her instincts sharper than most. The walk is short though, which offers her a small relief, and the sea soon peaks through the branches, menacingly dark in the shadow of night. Her feet tumble from rock to sand soon after, and she slips off her confining shoes to feel the grains against her toes. Freedom is not a pleasure the people of Panem can afford but if it was this is what she imagines it would feel like, weightless and calm, like a breath of fresh air after years of endless suffocation. The Capitol's choking hands finally loosening from around her neck, and even though a rebellion would leave bruises, she can taste the sweet freedom it might give her also. She walks along a bit further to the cluster of rocks her and Finn sometimes come down and sit on when the house and its memories get too much. The waves lap lazily against the worn surface of the larger stone that she hops onto, her toes just touching the cool water from where her legs dangle off the edge.

She settles a small rock from beside her lightly into her hand, its outer layer smooth and perfect from years of relentless bashing. Tossing it as hard as she can back into the sea, her emerald eyes follow it as it skids across the surface a few times before sinking down towards the seabed of deep blues below. Her hands repeat the action a few more times, it's mind numbing, relieving, and keeps her thoughts from straying back to the demons that follow her everywhere, clinging onto life through cracked memories. Madge stays like that, throwing absentmindedly into the darkness for a long time, praying for it to never become day. The darkness of night hides her away for now, even if it is only a false shelter, and she feels safer in it than at any other time. Still, the day soon arrives like it always does. The first signs of the sun climb up from the waves, her heart sinking at the sight and her hands shake so badly that the little stone she had been holding topples lamely onto the others below. The sun, looming and large, slowly creeps into the sky, pure scattered light pouring out of it like morning mist and prodding through the sea's surface like long thin fingers. With breath paused in her lungs, she wishes, that time would stop. Light isn't so bad when the world is still and sleeping. It's almost warm. Almost. But then she remembers what will come with it soon enough and everything is cold once again.

(Everything is always cold nowadays)

For most of her life Madge had always preferred to watch the sunset, it's vibrant colours had been the purest sight of beauty for her younger self. Together Mira, Finn and her would watch it every evening, a small moment of pause in their complicated lives. Then later, it became a sign of closure, because to Madge every sunset meant another day of survival for Finn, for Mira and for her childish hope for both of them to come home. She would watch it every night with halted breath, rejoicing when their faces didn't light up on the screen and thanking the sunset for another day of their survival.

And then the cannon boomed. And with her beautiful sister, her love of sunsets died.

For a long time after those Games, sunrises were her only escape, just how sunsets were her undoing. It was a sure sign of new beginnings, no matter how much she didn't want one. No, all she wanted was her old life back more than anything. Her wishes were not answered. So in the end she gave up wishing, sunrises ended up only signifying the change from her vibrant younger, much more innocent self, to the person she was today. The joy of her life before had been dulled to a more pastel palette, each muted shade from the past sunsets a representation of a loss the Odair's had suffered. The radiant pinks of Mira, vibrant yellows of mother, domineering oranges of father, all gone. The pastel blues and whites of the sky were her only constants now, Finnick, her lifeline and district four, her home. But even today they've been tainted by a veil of fog, which hangs low like a thin grey blanket, swallowing the horizon and only letting through thin beams of sunlight. It is beautiful in its own doomed way, she thinks. Like Finn. Like Annie. Like Mags.

(Even a little like herself.)

She stays there for a while, staring vaguely off into the dreary abyss, alone and vulnerable, completely uncertain of what the day might bring. She'll board the train no matter what just as she's done every year, be swept towards the Capitol with all its' brain washed inhabitants and sickening forms of entertainment, with its' secrets and lies. Her fate however is still in Snow's hands, like it always has been, and although she has always known that she's just another pawn in his cruel game it stills terrifies Madge more than anything else.

Xxxxxx

Finn is waiting her when she returns home, his face sullen and covered in deep shadows that even the Capitol's makeup will not be able to hide later on. His feet tap nervously on the step, a sign of his worry which he normally hides so well but even when he notices her presence at the front gate his feet don't stop hitting the pavement, bouncing and jolting again and again. The Capitol paint him as brave, and although he is the bravest person she knows, she also knows he is not unbreakable, that the Capitol broke him a long time ago. He doesn't show it though, not fully, she sees the cracks that he can't quite cover but he never lets anyone in, not like how he had before. Nothing is like how it was before.

She settles gently beside him when she reaches the steps knowing he probably won't say anything for awhile, and let's his head fall onto her shoulder as they think to themselves thoughts that can't be voiced out loud. He has carried her burden for much too long, she believes, fought to keep her as protected and safe as he could, done Snow's biddings willingly like he wasn't selling his soul just to give her another year of life, another year of not being picked. She thinks the least she can do is hold him for a moment in the silence of dawn. Let him not speak, just breathe in the comfort she has to offer. For they both know that it all comes down to this day, that for all his years of obedience and compliance he might still lose another sister. Might not be able to save her just how he wasn't able to save Mira all those years ago. Mira. The sister that everyone has so easily forgotten as the years have passed by. Now no one remembers Finnick's love and compassion for his middle sister, only his honour and strength, his bronzed looks and teasing smirk. Madge thinks to herself that maybe it is better that they don't, that way her Mira's memory can't be tainted by those monsters. They have already taken enough, the least her and Finn can have is that.

"Finn" her voice is quiet even in the silence and it barely comes out properly; the word gets choked up in her throat and leave her mouth feeling like sandpaper, too dry and hoarse to speak anything else.

"Don't say anything. Not yet." He shakes his head lifting it from her shoulder to look at her and she can see the tears swimming in his eyes, the same colour as her own. She knows he won't let them fall, that's a weakness he can't afford, but they're there, mirroring her own desolate fears and she can't help her urge to pull him into her arms. His natural smell is so distinctive against her nose, untainted by the Capitol in this moment and it reminds her of home, of the sea's briny aroma, of his smirk and the way his rare genuine laughter resounds brighter than anything else she's ever heard. Finnick is her entire world and if she is to be reaped today she wants to remember this moment within the walls of his strong arms, the moment where everything seemed slightly less bleak and hope wasn't too foreign a feeling in her heart. They stay like that for a long time, both too scared to let go. They know they will have to part soon enough but in this moment of false safety she knows she can't, not quite yet at least.

Xxx

The Capitol team come fluttering in from the station just before the clock strikes noon, their voices a cacophony of squeals and giggles of excitement as they pile through the front door. Each Victor must be prepared each year before the Reaping by their prep team so that they are camera ready, their features distorted with layers of makeup to conceal all signs of the horrors that they each go through daily. It is all just another facade made by the Capitol, another falsity in a sea of fakeness. And although she had once detested the three gaudy capitalists and all they represented, Madge couldn't help but slowly grow an almost fondness for the squabbling fools over the years as they continued to blush over Finn's appearance and every move. They were irritating of course but their affection seemed quite genuine, their adoration almost sweet and they'd always hurried to make her feel included and tell her all of the latest gossip in the Capitol whenever she trailed behind Finn around the Capitol or at home. Her younger self may have preferred their attempts at conversation more, always wanting to be treated older than she was but it were the latter secrets that nowadays gave her the most satisfaction. Whispers were worth more than gold in the Capitol after all.

"Finnick, darling, how is it that age beholds you so much better than it does anyone else in Panem. You only seem to get more attractive as the years pass you by and I believe that is entirely unfair." Thellia, the almost ringleader of the three gushes as they all toddle over, quite ridiculously in their sky high heels, to embrace Finnick. With them seems to come a cloud of perfumed fragrances so overpowering that Madge begins to splutter from her spot in the kitchen, and in an instant their attention is on her. Finn's smirk barely registers as the flurry of fusion and florals busy towards her, her cheeks being squeezed on one side as the man, Gunther, inspects her nails in the the opposite direction, his high pitched voice commenting something vaguely demeaning about her inability to look after her own appearance.

"Madeline Odair, you get more stunning everytime I see you. It's quite the shame that we must only see you twice a year, you should come visit the Capitol with that dashing brother of yours more often. A beauty like you shouldn't be holed away in a place like this, the salt gives you dead ends and most everyone we passed had such horrible frizzy hair. No, the Capitol is most certainly the place for you darling, just as it is for our dearest Finn." She feels one of them grab her hand and seat her in a chair besides Finn's but even after that most of attention, thankfully, is once again on her brother, Thellia returning to his side to tell him all sorts as the other two unpack their many bags and offer the odd input into the conversation. Madge watches with slight satisfaction as an assortment of brushes begin to be dabbed upon Finn's features but her enjoyment quickly fades when the little one, Clio starts plucking the few stray eyebrow hairs that had managed to grow on her face since the last time they'd done this to her. " Beauty is pain" the women mutters as Madge continues to flinch which Finn seems to find particularly amusing. A kick to the shin soon shuts him up.

Xxxx

Her wardrobe is sparse, at least the tiny section that she actually uses in district 4 is. The other drawers and hangers are filled to the brim with Capitol outfits that have been made to fit her body perfectly and that each come in what seems like hundreds of different colours and designs. All that is in her real drawer is a few pairs of shorts, mostly old and frayed along the edges, some tops and dresses, a variety of her own and Mira and mother's old ones that she can't part with quite yet even though Mira's don't fit her in the slightest anymore. Her mother's do however, and she wishes she could wear one of her dresses today, as a good luck charm almost but knows she won't be allowed. No, she must wear the pristine white one that reflects back at her in the mirror, limp and cold like death itself and yet so flamboyant in nature. It's not a typical Capitol dress like she'd been expecting when Thelia had dug into her bag telling Madge of the dress she'd made her for her final Reaping. No, in fact Madge thinks it's quite pretty, Lacey and delicate with intricate ties that twist hypnotically down her back, spinning and spirally like her father's old fishing nets. In the mirror it makes her body seem much more curvaceous than it actually is, her womanly breasts made to pop out from the top dramatically and it's material tightest around her waist before it flares out, satiny material floating down until around her mid thigh. It's beautiful despite her feeling choked in it, but maybe that is more nerves than anything else. The constricting of her ribs and the palpitations of her heart do seem to suggest it is the latter. Gently she fumbles under the top of her dress, her fingers sprawling to catch the string of her necklace so she can pull it out into view. Like her old clothes her necklace has seen much better days, the sting is almost broken in multiple places and the shell that hangs off of it is chipped and scratched. She can't quite let go of it yet though, just as Finn has not let go of Mira's. He wears it all the time like her when he is home, loosely around his neck so that it reaches just over his heart. He'd had to get a new string for it after the games, the old one filled with blood and memories too haunting to carry around on him aswell as inside of him. She knows he doesn't take it to the Capitol however. He's never told her why he leaves it here when he makes his almost monthly trips, but she can guess that it would be much too hard wearing it knowing that the people there are the reason why it is not still around Mira's neck.

Madge wears hers when she goes to that awful place, unlike Finn. She doesn't feel safe there without it. And maybe a small part of her hopes that Snow will remember where it's from when he sees it on her, remember the other Odair girl that was sent to her death all those years ago.

(Remember that he hasn't killed them all quite yet.)

(Remind him that he never will.)

"You look beautiful kiddo." Finn startles her from the door, his arm holding his weight easily as he leans against it with his arms crossed, his head titled in contemplation.

"Your hair's a mess, she always gels it too much, makes you look bald, old man." She laughs weakly as she goes over and messes it up a bit, releasing a few curls from their constraints as her fingers run through them.

"Thelia thought I looked "dashingly handsome" I'll have you know." His arms flex as he poses, showcasing his best smirk for her, to which she playfully whacks him.

"Thelia would think you looked dashingly handsome in nothing. Her opinion really doesn't mean that much."

"Half the Capitol thinks I look good in nothing, it's quite a popular opinion actually."

"I don't know whether I'm more disgusted at the thought of you naked or that you are proud that half of the Capitol had seen you naked?" She laughs, shaking her head in slight disgust at the thought and she can hear him laugh too, stifled and riddled with emotion yet there, which is good enough for her. The conversation hits a lull after that and Madge can't quite find the right words to say to him as they both stand a few feet apart. Everything she thinks of saying would seem forced, any attempts at lightening the mood would pass as desperate and the silence is too heavy for her to last much longer in it. She doesn't want to cry just yet seeing as nothing has actually happened but there's this feeling of dread in her stomach that is screaming at her that today will not end well. That this is the year. Finn seems to understand her thoughts by the way his arms come to wrap around her, encasing her tightly, safe and sound and away from all the harm she fears is coming.

"I love you, you know that." He whispers, his breath hot against her face as his words spread from where he kisses her lightly on the forehead.

"I love you too Finn." She tightens her arms, gathering all the strength she can, she needs it now more than ever.

A knock at the door downstairs jolts them apart and Finn turns to head down, only stopping when he doesn't hear her footsteps behind him.

"They're here Kiddo." He tilts his head downstairs, as if he thinks she didn't hear the door at all but she just smiles back sorrowfully.

"I know, I'll be down in a minute... I promise." He nods again, all confusion gone as if he understands what she needs to do, before he disappears down the stairs to open the door to Annie and Mags.

She looks around the room, her hands itching to touch everything just one last time, memorise the feel of her bed underneath her or smell the pages of one of her old books that Finn had secretly collected for her from some of his clients in the Capitol. It's not like the room is that sentimental to her really, not like her old room had been when her and father had been made to move in with Finn when he'd returned from the Games but she guesses that it's become her home sort of. She never feels complete safe in its walls, each picture seems to watch her and the windows drip with the blood that Finnick was made to spill for them to live here. It's familiar if nothing else, and with so much else unknown to her right now, it feels as much a haven as she'll get.

"Goodbye" she whispers into the air, hoping that if someone is listening that they won't have heard it. That one was just for her, she thinks as she pulls the door closed behind her with one last glance. Who knew closure could feel so doomed?

Xxxxxx

The walk to the square feels longer than normal, her steps louder, her breaths shorter. Finn's hand is in hers, fractionally tighter than usual and although he shows only a confident smile on his face she knows he will struggle to let her hand go when they reach the square and must part seperate ways. She knows she will struggle too. Her other hand is linked to Annie's but her grip is much weaker, Annie's health deteriorating more and more as they edge closer to the Reaping. Annie Cresta reminds her of Mira a bit, dark hair that frames a kind face and glassy eyes, shattered from seeing so much horror, so much pain. They call her crazy in the Capitol, laugh at her fragility, mock her cries and screams but Madge thinks that maybe Annie isn't so crazy, just a bit broken like the rest of the Victors. Maybe her fate is better than theVictors that the Capitol adore, the 'Strong' ones.

In the end Annie is just another victim of Snow, Finnick's best friend that they tore apart much like they did their father, Finnick's lover that they continue to threaten. Her life is a toy just like Madge's. Annie Cresta is just another victim of the Capitol's cruelty. Just another face to add to the never ending list. Mags walks on the other side of Finn, his arm tight around her middle to steady her feet as she plods solemnly along with them. Unlike the rest of them her silence is not unusual, Mags is a woman of very few words, mostly using signals and gestures to get her points across. Madge had thought her quite peculiar when Finn had first introduced her to his mentor but the years had allowed her to bond with the wise women with wild grey curls that mimicked her own natural ones and the older women's strange nature had shown Madge more love than she could have ever imagined. Mags holds such optimism in the world around her, so unlike the rest of them and her smiles and soft embraces feel like breaths of new life into the crushing despair that surrounds the village. The other Victors walk ahead, their chins down as they go, anger burning in the younger ones eyes while the older ones cower away from the spotlight they receive as they pass people by. A few family members, children and siblings, walk with the victors too

Annie is reluctant to drop Madge's hand when they reach the square, her stifled tears coming out as a pathway is cleared for the Victors so that they can rise to the stage with ease. Madge's hand quivers as she forces herself to let go of Annie's, whose grip has suddenly become extremely tight, but that is the only sign she gives her friend as she turns and tugs her hand away and to her side. Finn is much harder to leave behind. She wants him to hold her like he'd done earlier but they can't and all either can manage is a nod of understanding before he walks past her, jaw set tightly as his hand replaces hers in Annie's, pulling the broken girl up onto the stage and going to take his place on his seat. He easily puts on a smile as the mayor goes over to chat with him quietly while the Reaping is organised and the children are filed into their categories and she wonders if her acting is that good. If she really nearly as calm and collected as she is trying to.

The queue she's waiting in quickly fades away, the Capitol being at least efficient in their death marches, and she soon is thrown out of her thoughts by the probing of the Capitol woman's voice asking her for her name.

"Madeline Odair" she replies and she knows the women is at least slightly shocked by the momentary pause in the procedure but Madge doesn't have the effort to smile or even glance her as the woman quickly regains her neutrality and pricks her finger to dab a small dot of blood onto the page. The beep of recognition signals that she is finished and Madge finds that she doesn't have far to walk, the eighteen year old section being the furthest back in the designated area for the eligible. Weaving her way towards a familiar head of chestnut curls, Madge can't help but notice the multitude of eyes directed upon her, each one chanting what she already knows. It's your turn now, it's your turn now, it's your turn now. They all know exactly who she is, Finnick Odair's sister who lives in Victors Village, eats three perfectly sized meals a day, never has to work for her living or ask for a penny on the streets. It's not that district 4 is poor, not really when compared to the poverty that Finnick describes the outer districts as having, but no one is too well off either, people still have to scrape by to survive. Many live in the area she used to live in, the Docks, where starvation isn't a foreign concept, where fishermen father's often never return and mother's die in childbirth or children die of fever. It's a dingy place, shabby and smattered with old bits of net and boats and people's rubbish that fester by the sides of their houses for weeks and weeks. She can tell who those ones are by the stone in their eyes, the thinnest of their bones and the tan and sunburn that litters their skin red and patchy from hours of labouring outdoors. They all hate her and maybe she's glad they do, she knows they are not fake like the richer girls, only befriending her in an attempt to sneak a glance at Finnick or have a private word with him. It's almost laughable how many girls had used her in the first few years of Finn's victory, and her confused 10 year old self had been too naive to see it. Now she wasn't so naive, she barely let anyone in but she desperately wanted to, loneliness was a miserable affair with one's self she'd learnt.

Arabella Baylen was, however, the exception to her rule. Madge had always thought her to appear younger than she actually was, with a willowy figure and little bust she could easily pass as a girl much less than her eighteen years of age which seemed to irritate her friend more than anything else in the world. Her parents had always been quite well off, meaning Madge had never paid much attention to the quiet girl before Finn's games when she was the poorest of the poor but afterwards she'd noticed her as one of the few girls to never pester her about her brother. It wasn't as though Arabella had few friends or was some kind of loner, in fact most people thought her quite sweet if a little oddly quiet. It was just that her parents accepted very few of the other girls as good enough for their daughter to associate with. They were quite snobbish like that, but not Arabella, she was kind and sweet with a contagious giggle that put a rare smile on Madge's face. Madge thinks they were more like confidants in isolation than friends at first, both too scared to befriend many other people, too paranoid, but they had developed a reliance on the other over the years. A friendship really, but Madge won't admit that openly, everyone she cares about seems to die in the end.

"Last year." Ara comments as Madge slips into the spot beside her, her words so whispered that Madge barely catches them.

"Last year" she repeats back solemnly. She thinks her tone is fitting to the sorrowful atmosphere that seems to have choked all noise out of the square except from the quiet sobs and echo of downtrodden footsteps beating against the ground. Arabella slowly nods as if in a trance and they just look at each other, fear gripping each of their senses as they wait for the square to fill and the dreaded Reaping to commence.

Irridessa Gilding is strangely entrancing to watch as her heels click steadily along the platform once the clock struck three, each step vibrating strongly against the hush that has fallen over the square since her appearance on stage. Her hair this year has taken a sickly green colour, vibrant yet ugly, it's ends jutting out horizontally in a harsh unnatural manner where the hair should end flatly. She thinks it makes her face rather doll like to be perfectly honest, disproportionately thinning her facial features and making her already enhanced frame seem jagged and stiff, long yet weirdly small in the flurry of clothes that have been stacked in layer upon layer on her body. She looks ridiculous, especially considering the blazing heat around them. The humidity kisses Madge's skin with moisture so thick that her dress is beginning to stick awkwardly to her own back and her garment is of a much lighter material than Irridessa's, and much less corseted also. Still, she can't bring herself to feel any pity for the horrid women, she's truly a nightmare to even be in the vicinity of never mind actually interact with.

"Welcome, welcome district four, to the 73rd annual Hunger Games." Madge zones out as soon as the condescendingly irritating words come out of her loud mouth, the same mind numbing repetition of the same speech that has been given to them every year without fail. Many of the other girls around her are noticeably ignoring the screen aswell, a few whispering nervously amongst themselves whilst others just awkwardly shuffle their feet or wring their hands in the dress skirts, waiting for what will follow. No one wants to be picked at eighteen, except from one or two cocky volunteers that go forward every few years, and even they aren't nearly as confident in themselves as they let on. This was all of their last year, then it would be over for all of them, well at least until they had their own children but it will never be over for her. The Games will always be a part of her, who she was, the place she lives, the people she speaks to. She's envious of the rest of them, they may have much less than her but she can't help but covert for the small bit of freedom they have, the happiness they are allowed and the people they befriend.

(Wanting what one doesn't have seems to be the detriment of all of their minds in the end)

"Ladies first..." Madge's head whips up at the words echoing over the square, her neck cracking as it does but she pays no mind to the pinch of pain that comes with her sudden jolt of movement. Arabella's hand laces into her own, both of their palms slick with nervous sweat that only makes them both squeeze tighter. She can't feel her fingers, or her body at all in the moment that seems to drag on forever as Irridessa's talons rifle through the bowl, plucking a single card from the mass of white identical slips. All she can hear is her heart thudding like drums in her ears, pumping so fast that she swears any seconds it will stop from overexertion, that she will faint of pure fear because she knows that every slip in their is bound to have her name on it. That any second the sentence will be passed and she won't be able to escape this fate she has been running from for years. She's scared, more scared than she wants to acknowledge, more scared than she's felt in years.

"Our female district from district four is..." All she can think of is the name that came after that very sentence nine years ago. Her sister stood in this very square, much further forward than herself. The way that blue haired lady had completely mispronounced Mira's name when it had been read over the speaker, the way her father's hand had gone slack in hers, or the sound of him walking away, leaving her sobbing alone on the floor.

"Madeline Odair." Gilding's lips move in a weird hypnotically fashion but Madge can't hear anything she's saying into the microphone. Madge is smiling, can feel her cheeks pressed upwards painfully begging her for a reprieve that she can't give them, because she knows that this is the start, every move she makes from now on is a part of her facade and she plans to play it better than anyone else. Her eyes are contrastingly hard compared to the rest of her expression, threateningly solid as she takes a steady step away from where she is stood. The rest of her section have already made a path for her to leave by, a gully of pleased faces, taunting her for her misfortune. She can't let them see how breathless she is so she doesn't breath at all, the burning sensation in the pit of her lungs giving her a distraction from the pitiful tears that she's desperately holding back. 'Pull it together', she wants to scream at herself, 'you knew it was coming'. Arabella's hand slackens in hers before it drops completely, and she has to force herself not to look back at her friend's face, or up to where Finnick is most definitely scowling or, even worse, to where Annie's devestated sobs are coming from.

The stage looms tall over her as she draws closer, the stairs leading upwards to the tormenting hands that beckon her away from the safety of the crowd. Up there they will all see how terrified she really is, how her hands haven't stopped shaking since her name was called or how she's biting her lips as she smiles, a sure sign of fragility to any of the other tributes who will watch her Reaping replay later tonight. As she takes her first tentative step away from the ground she focuses on not tripping over her own shoes, keeping her eyes down just in case her feet think to betray her. Shoulders back, chin up, smile on. She runs each movement like a checklist in her brain, repeating each step meticulously, over and over, as though she will forget one if she doesn't.

"How beautiful you look miss Odair, your brother must be so proud of his little sister today, mustn't he?" Irridessa smiles luringly at Finn as she speaks, her eyes pouncing on him, as though she is talking of a seductive secret instead of his sister being reaped. She feels disgust thread deep into her stomach as she listens to the women's go on and wants desperately to shut her up for both herself and her brother. In the end, she doesn't move an inch. Madge knows she must stay facing forward, resist any urges to turn around and look at him or glare at Irridessa beside her.

(Finn has taught her well enough to avoid any weakness' that may ruin the image they both have spent endless amounts of time crafting for her over the past near decade)

(Now is not the time for childish acts of petulance)

(Now is the time to play her part better than she ever has before)

(Still, her heart yearns for the thrill of small acts of rebellion)

(She promised herself long ago that she would make them pay)

(Now is her chance)

Xxxxxx

Her waiting room is somber and silent. She wonders for a minute if the boy's room is nearly this quiet and hopes for his sake it is not, silence only leaves more room for thought. And there is only one thought in her mind. Death. The thing itself is not a foreign concept to her of course, everyone has seen death in Panem, especially her; but no one ever truly wants death to come, it's knocking hand looming but never really present in anyone's mind until faced with it like she is now. It's funny how she has avoided the thought of her own death for so long, too focused on others ends that Madge never really imagined her own. But now it's all she can think about. The curtain string makes her neck ache with ideas of suffocation and the steady tapping of her fingers on the lonesome ceiling ledge instead fill her ears with the popping echoes of breaking bones under stiff purposeful hands. She's seen tributes raped in the arena, chopped and butchered like animals and left to hang like a trophy of a predator's prowess. Then there is always the blood, pouring, leaking, splattering, spilling endlessly, rivers and canyons filled with the copper coloured mark that only death can bring with it. It's only in death, in the few seconds it takes to shove something through another person that you realise that humans really aren't much more than the flesh, blood, bone and fat that makes them. She wonders if her body will crumble like they all seem to do, weight toppling away onto the cold awaiting ground that swallows the last bits of humanity out of a person.

She overthinking it. She knows she is. Right now her focus is survival, it's what she is best at after all and she has the biggest advantage of them all, the Capitol already adores her. But then again that makes her the biggest target, her famous name could almost be a big bloody red X on her back for what it gives her and takes away from others. The careers will want her of course, she's skilled, not that she'll ever let the extent of her training on to anyone before they reach the arena, and she's bound to get sponsors, even if just from others adoration of her brother. But does she really want them for allies. They're ruthless killers, bloodthirsty and ravenous, and they play the game well, flirty and bold and cruel. They're her toughest competitors already and she hasn't even seen them yet. She can't discount the outer districts however, Joanna Mason won 2 years back now and some others a few before her. Tonight she needs to pay attention, she knows the game better than the rest of them and her keen sense of awareness brings her one step ahead of the other tributes still reeling from the day's events and one step closer to winning, to coming home.

Home. Finnick. Annie. Mags. Arabella.

(Gale.)

(She'll soon figure out that home isn't always a place; home is a feeling, a warmth, a person. Home is that small bit of clarity in a world of uncertainty.)

Xxxxxx

Please review, fav and follow

Love you lots,

GB xox


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